Afterwards
by Moczo
Summary: The party that fights together, stays together. But the party that gets caved in together in a very small space soon comes to realize that they really don't like each other that much.
1. The First Day

**Notes:** I haven't written fanfiction in so long that I forgot how to get into my own account (I share this with my brother, so he had to remind me of what my own password is. Sigh.)

Anyhow, don't be disappointed if I tend to insult one character over another... they'll all get their turns. Oh, and I've found it helps if you draw a little diagram. I would include one but I highly doubt would let me.

And I don't own Neverwinter Nights 2 in the sense that I'm making money off it. I own it in the sense I've beaten it twice (both times as a paladin-hybrid of some kind... what's _wrong_ with me?)

PS: This is just for fun. Go ahead and tell me things like what you would like to see in the future, and sure, go ahead and give me some crit, but don't take it too seriously, because I'm not :)

I.

"So, _this_ is what vanity gets you. The girl won't wear a helmet – insists on wearing that stupid _feathered cap_, of all things – and _now_ she's sporting what I'm _sure_ is a very fashionable head wound."

"Hush, Sand. You're one to talk of vanity."

Grace forced her eyes open, and the moment she did she wished she hadn't.

Her companions were all _alive_, which was a cause for joy, but they were all caved in in a very small circle with no exit and the crushing weight of an ancient Illefarn temple surrounding them. They were separated from the rocks by a thin, red-glowing magical net of some kind, which was simultaneously providing light. Neeshka was leaning against her on one side, her tail twitching every once in awhile, and Grobnar was on the other, hurriedly looking through his pack for something.

Grace hesitantly raised her hand and pressed a finger to the source of her disorienting pain – a huge gash filled with small pebbles and dust was across the right side of her scalp, the red of her blood making her already-red hair darker.

Sand was about to respond to Elanee (no doubt the response would be appropriately witty and sarcastic) when Ammon Jerro spoke up, "And so the great knight captain has awoken. Welcome to what can _only_ be one of the hells." Indeed, the warlock _looked_ like he was being tormented.

The world seemed fuzzy to Grace and she struggled to find some sort of response to that, but found that the words weren't forming. She could comprehend what Ammon had just said, but speaking back seemed to be beyond her.

"_Know_ that I lack the capacity to heal you at this time, _kalach-cha_," Zhjaeve intoned from across the "room". She was sitting between Ammon Jerro (who looked _thrilled_) and Elanee. "I and the other healers have spent our energies in healing those wounds which would prove most fatal."

Grace nodded dimly.

"So you're going to have to explain to me, _most noble leader_," Sand began from his position between Casavir and Qara, "why _exactly_ you risked life and limb to save the little girl here, who _clearly_ would not do the same for you." Sand looked at Qara fondly – not because of any sort of personal affection, but because Sand had apparently spent most of the time they'd been trapped binding Qara's hands behind her back and gagging her in very elaborate knots that even Neeshka would have had a hard time getting out of, much less Qara. The sorceress in question was awake, her eyes narrowed into slits as she glared down everyone. Sand was not daunted.

Grace tried to find the words. _Because you forgive too easily_, was the first thing that came to mind, but oddly enough it wasn't in her voice – it was in Bishop's.

* * *

_Grace allowed herself to breathe at what proved to be a most inopportune moment._

"_Ah, the proverbial fire," Sand took the time to comment brightly before he followed the others in a mad dash for the exit. The Chamber of the King of Shadows was ominously beginning to rumble…_

_Grace, too, sprinted, although not towards the exit – she ran towards the unconscious form of Qara, who had what seemed like days earlier betrayed Grace and sided with the former Guardian of Illefarn. "What are ye **doin**_', _lass?" Khelgar demanded, he and Casavir remaining behind to wait for their leader. Neeshka, feverish due to the Garius' geas, was slung over Khelgar's back, her feet and tail dragging on the ground. "I didn't kill the pyro so ye could try 'n save her!"_

_"She's not dead!" Grace called back, kneeling beside the unconscious sorceress and, bracing her, standing up. When Khelgar had attacked her, Qara's magical defenses had activated just in time to prevent the blow from caving her skull in, for better or for worse. Grace had noticed during the ensuing battle the near-imperceptible rising and falling of Qara's chest. _

_"Well, I can fix that-" _

_"I have a headache bad enough to qualify as a hell in itself," Neeshka muttered from Khelgar's back, just loud enough that the aasimar had to strain her ears to hear her over the falling debris around the chamber, "So do me a favor and shut the hell up, Khelgar."_

_Khelgar clearly wasn't sure how to respond to the tiefling's use of his actual name (as opposed to the six hundred or so insulting nicknames she had for him), so after a moment of silence he muttered a half-hearted, "Bloody **paladins**," before following the others. _

_The debris falling from the ceiling was beginning to change from dust to chunks of rock. "Let's get out of here," Grace tersely said to Casavir, shuffling by him as fast as possible while supporting the weight of Qara. Normally Grace wouldn't have had too much of a problem carrying the frail magic user, but after slaying three Shadow Reavers (one of which almost slew her) and sixteen Kings of Shadow, Grace was exhausted, completely out of spells and was covered in numerous cuts and gashes, a prominent one on her right thigh, where one of the Kings had managed to slice through her (brand new) armor and hit the skin. Casavir wordlessly took Qara from her, slinging her over his back like Khelgar had Neeshka. The two ran from the room, Grace ignoring the pain in her leg, and the two narrowly avoided the chamber's collapse. _

_Grace was thankful that Casavir had forgiven her for not letting him kill Bishop. "Thank you." _

_"I understand."_

_That was when the entire building collapsed. _

* * *

Grobnar had found whatever it was he was looking for, but as he opened his mouth to speak he stopped suddenly, looking at something located between him and Khelgar. He was going to speak about _that_ but Casavir cut in, speaking for Grace, "She cannot speak, Sand. Her head wound is too great."

"We warned her about that hat…" Khelgar muttered.

"Khelgar!" Neeshka snapped, her tail twitching, "Stop saying things like that!"

_Good ol' Neeshka, can always count on her… _Grace thought dimly.

"What? That hat was just _not_ combat friendly, and we all knew it! What kind of warrior wears a felt hat into hand-to-hand combat?"

"Oh, that's not what she means. We all know the stupid hat was a bad choice of combat wardrobe. Her point was that you're going to make that insufferable elf's head even bigger if you keep agreeing with him," Ammon said.

"I am too sufferable," Sand huffed.

"Too late," Elanee chimed in, "Sand's head reached critical mass months ago."

"Yeah, it couldn't even fit into Grace's absurd, suicidally indefensible hat!" Neeshka said. She seemed to be sounding better, although not by much.

"_Regardless of cause_," Casavir burst in, "the fact remains that Lady Grace cannot speak."

"Since you're an _expert_ at speaking for her, why don't you just go ahead and tell me her motivations?" Sand grated.

"Oh my," Grobnar said.

"My lady is a virtuous, noble woman," Casavir declared, "who is forgiving of her enemies." Qara rolled her eyes. Grace smiled weakly. As much as he was mocked, Casavir made an _excellent_ self-esteem booster.

"So you're saying it was – what were your words, _noble _and_ virtuous_ to let Bishop walk out?" Sand replied slyly, clearly enjoying himself. He seemed to be the only one.

"Oh, no. That was stupid." Grace was amazed at Casavir's bluntness.

"There are-" Grobnar began again.

"You shouldn't have slept with him," Neeshka mumbled from beside her, her head resting on her shoulder, "Made him uppity." Grace started running her fingers through her friend's hair in an effort to soothe her pain. She also agreed – about him being uppity, not about their night together.

"The ranger probably got caved in too, although killing him ourselves would have been much more satisfying," Ammon pointed out gruffly.

"If I might interject-" Elanee began.

"Oh, me too!" Grobnar said cheerfully, not seeming at all offended that no one was letting him talk.

"Ye just noticed that there aren't any plants in here or somethin'?" Khelgar interrupted her.

Elanee sighed. "Yes, Khelgar, that was my main concern. No – how _exactly_ have the rocks not crushed us yet? I was merely intrigued as to how we all live. I have noticed the force-field around us and am thankful that it is providing light, but I wonder where it _came_ from."

Sand and Ammon Jerro raised their hands and went on to explain (well, _Sand_ explained) how the two used what very little magical energies they had left to form a shield. Qara once again rolled her eyes and said something from behind her gag. Sand hit her on the back of the head.

"Excuse me-" Grobnar began again. Grace looked at him and Grobnar noticed this, continuing excitedly, "There are _feet_ next to me!"

Someone screamed, a high-pitched girlish shriek.

Everyone looked at Sand.

"What?" he said brusquely, staring at his robes ashamedly.

"For a second there, I thought a six-year old Halfling schoolgirl had somehow snuck in here…" Ammon commented.

"Well, I just happen to have a natural soprano. I can't be blamed for a combination of surprise and a wonderful, bell-like singing voice," Sand claimed.

"I've heard you sing. It sounds a little bit less like a 'bell' and more like a 'goose'…" Elanee mentioned.

"Ye would know _all about_ gooses," Khelgar muttered.

"So he sings like poultry, screams like a girl, talks like a jerk… is he some sort of odd Chimera?" Neeshka inquired.

Qara started laughing as effectively as someone gagged could and Sand hit her on the back of the head.

"How didn't I notice those?" Khelgar asked, bringing everyone's attention back to the mysterious feet. The feet were located between him and Grobnar. The feet were adorned with a large pair of leather boots.

A deathly silence filled the "room." "Thank the _gods_," Ammon muttered.

"What should we do with them?" Elanee asked of her compatriots. "It's highly unlikely that the person or undead that those boots are attached to would still be alive."

As if to challenge the druid's assertion, one of the feet twitched.

Grobnar backed up until he was sitting on Grace's lap. "It's another zombie!" the gnome declared. "And, my goodness, I am awfully sick of zombies!"

Khelgar went to pull out his ceremonial war hammer (something Grace didn't understand – the dwarf was a fist-using monk and, beforehand, had been something of a killing machine with a waraxe, so why he insisted on using the hammer was beyond her), nearly bashing Qara's head in due to the lack of space. The sorceress ducked out of the way and the hammer hit the rubble behind her.

Khelgar froze, as did everyone in the room. Those worshiping of the gods were praying to their respective deities. When nothing happened, Ammon roared, "Idiot _dwarf_, put that damn thing away!"

"But if it's an undead, I'm gonna have to kill it, and since the hammer's already out anyhow…"

"Put it away!"

"But… but I want to hammer…"

"_Put it away!"_

"But if I put it away, I won't be able to swing it…"

"**_PUT IT AWAY!_**"

"Aw, all right… knew there was a reason that I didn't like you."

"Other than him killing Shandra, leading us on a wild goose chase to his evil haven, imprisoning numerous devils and demons for his own nefarious purposes, his abrasive attitude, his _odd_ tattoo and how we were all on the same side but he never bothered to tell us?" Grobnar chimed in cheerfully.

"Well, there _is_ that…" Khelgar admitted.

"You had better hope that by the time the full extent of my powers come back I forget what you just said, gnome," Ammon growled.

"If that happens, then I would have to wonder if maybe _you_ weren't hit on the head as well! After all, if in a day's time you forget an entire conversation, then obviously something is wrong with your memory! But, speaking of forgetting, I almost forgot about the vicious undead that is sitting next to me. What should we do with it?"

There was more silence. "_Know_ that we ought to drag it in here and kill it. Were we to leave it where it is, it might move too much and cause instability, making our small enclave cave in," Zhjaeve suggested. It occurred to Grace just how many of her party members could talk about impending doom and being crushed beneath tons of rock and be so blasé about it.

"But were we to drag it in," Elanee turned to look at the githzerai next to her, "the disruption of the dislodging might cause a cave-in in itself."

Sand nudged Casavir in the arm. "Go ahead, paladin, we _all_ know you want to chime in."

"Thus we are in a predicament," he said, "for leaving the undead abomination could cause the cave-in which we wish to avoid, yet attempting to slay the creature could cause that which we most dread."

"_Know_ that-"

Qara protested to further conversation with a very loud groan, actively struggling against her bonds. Sand hit her on the back of the head.

"I could just break its foot," Khelgar suggested.

"And what would _that_ do?" Elanee asked him.

He shrugged. "It would be fun!"

"_Know _that-"

"We already know that we need to know what we know, y'know?" Neeshka cut her off.

Grace sighed. As much as she liked most of the members of her group, they really were _terrible_ at decision-making. She waved at Khelgar to get his attention then mimed out pulling the feet into the room. Using up too much energy, she closed her eyes and rested her cheek on the top of Neeshka's head.

Khelgar shrugged and, the rest of the group accepting Grace's word as final, grabbed the feet and, with a quick tug, pulled the body of the feet into the circle.

Bishop looked around from his position of lying in the middle. "And this is awkward," was all he could come up with.

Bishop quickly slid himself so his back was up against the magic shield and the rubble, just like the others. He was between Grobnar and Khelgar (like his feet before him), his face riddled with rock and dust and covered with cuts and bruises. His stubble had done a decent job of protecting the lower half of his face, or at least disguising any damage done to it.

"So," Ammon Jerro began, looking rather amused at Bishop's presence, "ranger, for all of your prattling on about killing sheep, how does it feel to finally be in the sheep's shoes?"

"If you kill me, I'll die," Bishop began, looking nervous and like he didn't quite believe what he was saying, "and frankly, it'd be better than being stuck in here with all of _you_."

"Point," Ammon admitted begrudgingly.

"_Know_ that if we were to kill the traitor outright, his decaying corpse would give this small space a most unpleasant scent," Zhjaeve pointed it. It was news to Grace that the githzerai even had a nose. It was hard to tell with the veil.

"This place already lacks fresh air," Elanee agreed, "so let's not make it worse."

"I find myself agreeing," Sand said disdainfully, "although watching the paladin here finally get to kill the ranger would be some high-quality entertainment."

In an impressive move, the paladin in question reached over, grabbed Grobnar and switched places with him, planting himself between his injured lady love and the betrayer ranger. Grace wanted to point out just how catchy calling him "Betrayer Ranger" was but still couldn't make her mouth listen.

Sand and Ammon had identical expressions of disdain on their faces at the newfound presence of Grobnar between them, but the gnome himself didn't seem to notice this.

"Ay, yer lucky the others don't want ye dead, and that Baldie won't let me use me hammer, or else I'd be killin' you _and_ the annoying whelp of a whiney sorceress! And I would be laughin'!" Khelgar informed Bishop.

"He needs to stop forgetting he's a monk," Neeshka pointed out, more to Grace than to anyone else. She had to agree.

Qara protested behind her gag in what could clearly be translated into "I'm not whiney," and Sand hit her on the back of the head.

"This is refreshing," the elf said cheerfully, "I'm so used to dominating people with my razor-sharp wit that I've forgotten how fun it is to do so physically. And you're making it all the more enjoyable, my dear," he said to Qara, "so by all means, keep trying to talk behind that gag."

Bishop decided to ignore Casavir's assertion of testosterone by ignoring him. "What happened to _you_?" he asked of Grace, pointing to the right side of his head.

"Ro-" Grace's moment of being so excited that she could make a word was ruined when Casavir spoke:

"I don't think so, betrayer. You are not allowed to talk to her – you are not _worthy_."

"Well what do you know," Grobnar excitedly, "That would make him a _betrayer ranger!_ Isn't that awfully catchy!"

Grace did her best to look offended until Sand snapped, "That is the most _moronic_ thing you have _ever_ said. … except for the Wendersnaven, but that goes without question." Then she felt better.

"Rock," Grace said.

Everyone looked at her.

"And it speaks!" Jerro said with sarcastic enthusiasm.

"Speaking in such simple words… You _are_ a paladin, aren't you." Grace glared at Sand.

"Go to hell," she said cheerfully. Sand gave her a nod of approval.

"Uncouth for a paladin, but you can be forgiven, I'm sure."

"She can," Casavir asserted.

"Now that I've gotten _one_ question answered, perhaps someone wouldn't mind telling me," Bishop began sardonically, "how Princess Qara survived turning traitor. Figured she would be the first to kick the bucket."

Qara squealed a retort and Sand hit her on the back of the head. "Next time I'll do it and knock her out," Khelgar offered.

"No, no, that won't be necessary. She's harmless enough _and_ amusing like this. Now, then, ranger, she's alive because Captain Charity over there decided not to let her die. But, _Bishop-_" Sand appeared intrigued, "you left – once again, thanks to Captain Charity – before Qara switched sides. How, pray tell, would you have known about it, hmm?"

Silence fell in the "room."

"Yeah, so?" Bishop grumbled, crossing his arms and staring intently at his boots.

"You didn't go far, did you?" Elanee said, smiling – not out of amusement, but because she seemed pleased.

Neeshka giggled. "Guess his whole 'I would _die_ for you' speech wasn't an exaggeration." She poked Grace in the side. Grace was thankful the red glow of the magic field was disguising her blush.

"I could have made it happen," Casavir grumbled.

"No way," Bishop retorted.

"That whole thing was just _funny_," Khelgar chuckled.

"Shut up, _dwarf!_" Bishop snapped, clearly uncomfortable.

"'Oh, Grace'" the dwarf began, putting on a high voice, apparently mimicking Bishop (and making him female), "'even though all ye've done since we met was threaten ta kill me for being an ass to ye and everyone we met-'"

"'and even though,'" Neeshka continued, doing a decent impersonation of Bishop's gruff voice, "'I just finished betraying you _twice_ for reasons that are basically 'I hate your uncle-''"

"'I looooooove ye!'"

"'I would have diiiiiiiieeeed for you!'"

"Shut _up!_"

"The best part," Ammon chimed in, clearly enjoying the way the conversation had gone, "was the 'but you always sided with the paladin!' bit, as if he somehow forgot _she **is** a paladin._"

"I noticed that," Elanee said cheerfully.

"And I was clearly the better choice to side with," Casavir interjected.

Grace shrugged.

"And," Grobnar began, no malice in his intent, "I thought it was awfully unintelligent of him-"

"Grobnar, if you keep talking, you'll become the world's most annoying pincushion!"

"Brave of you to insult the one member of our troupe who you could probably kill," Sand said jovially. "But go ahead and tell us your observation, Grobnar."

"_I_ thought it was odd that Bishop would confess that he was spying on Grace, when it was not a guarantee that she would die there! As if betraying her wasn't enough, he also rubbed salt in the wound, so to speak, by pointing out that he watched her on the ramparts with Casavir…"

Both paladins were now glaring at Bishop, recalling that declaration as well. "_Now_ am I allowed to kill him?"

She hit him on the upper arm, her hand hitting his plate mail. She nursed her hand against her chest, frowning. Casavir nobly took it and started rubbing it.

Sand hit Qara on the back of the head. Over her muffled protestations, he cheerfully said, "_That_ is how you do it."

"Were I to heal the _kalacha-cha_," Zhjaeve voiced wearily, "I would require rest."

"I'm sure. After all, you've never healed anyone before..." Neeshka muttered.

"…hmm?"

"What? I'm just saying it like it is! Whenever we're in a battle, you start casting 'bless' or some other useless crap six hundred times while we're all getting lopped to pieces! And then, when we try to tell you to heal us, you just babble something about '_knowing_ your effective powers' and do the exact same thing in the next fight!"

"_Know, _Neeshka, that I understand the most effective uses of my powers and…"

"THAT! That, there! That's what you say!" Neeshka said, waving her finger accusingly. "I **hate** that!"

"I realize tempers are flaring, but we should try not to tear each other's heads off." Casavir looked to Grace before continuing, "Unless I have permission to smite the betrayer?"

Grace gave him a patronizing shake of her head.

"You'll come around. Once we all get some sleep and heal up, everything will look much better, I'm sure."

Instantly Sand and Ammon Jerro looked as if they had some sort of mutual constipation. "Right, about that…"

The rest of the team looked at the two mages. "There's a bit of a catch-22 associated with this barrier we have constructed. You see, the longer we stay awake, the weaker the barrier becomes…"

"… but were we to fall asleep, the barrier would collapse completely," Jerro finished.

Silence once again settled into the group.

"Perhaps," Elanee broke it, "half of us could sleep and the others could keep Ammon and Sand awake?"

"Make them keep _each other_ awake," Bishop grumbled.

"I wanna sleep," Neeshka whined.

"My lady requires her rest," Casavir spoke up.

"Since when did you buy her?" Bishop grumbled again. Casavir chose to ignore him. Khelgar, however, did not. Apparently he was feeling left out by not being allowed to smack anyone, because he took the opportunity to plant his fist firmly into Bishop's kidney.

"So the healers and the injured sleep," Elanee said, ignoring the evil ranger's writhing in pain, "and the others stay awake?"

Grace nodded, closing her eyes and leaning against her knight. Unfortunately, he was still wearing plate-mail and her head still had a gash on the right side, so she leaned the other way onto Neeshka, who was still leaning on her.

It didn't take long for her to fall asleep.


	2. Boys Night In

Notes (on things random and reviewed-upon):

1. I'm sorry (actually, no I'm not, but still), but you can't save Qara in-game. I just did because I hate her. Backwards logic!

2. Going along with canon-talk, if I reference an in-game conversation, I'm much too lazy to look up the actual words (people who aren't are my heroes) so I'm just going to paraphrase. I apologize in advance.

3. I am a Casavir fan. No idea why, but I tend to go to the dark, brooding good-goodie hero types. That's not to say Casavir didn't have the personality of a rock, mind you, but I like rock-like personalities (and I can't help but notice a lack of Casavir-PC smut… sigh.) Yet somehow I also loved BGII's Anomen. Hmmm. Maybe it's the holiness?

4. Enjoy :)

II.

Grace, Neeshka, Elanee, Grobnar and Zhjaeve had fallen asleep. Sand had a look of complete disdain on his face at the fact that Grobnar was using the elfin mage as a body pillow.

"This is demeaning," he whined. To make himself feel better, he hit Qara, who was starting to doze off.

To protest this, she started squealing loudly, knowing full well it was going to wake the others up. So _Khelgar_ hit her on the back of the head, knocking the frail sorceress unconscious. "I've wanted to do that fer a damn long time," Khelgar grumbled.

"Oh, and you ruined my fun," Sand whined.

Bishop and Casavir were having a glaring and testosterone contest.

"This is going to be the _longest_ imprisonment ever," Ammon declared, crossing his arms and legs, "Even longer than the decades – or was it centuries? – I was imprisoned by the King of Shadows. And this will be much less pleasant."

"Ye know what we haven't done yet?" Khelgar looked excited, "We haven't gotten ta brag about killing the bastard shadow demon! We haven't gotten ta revel in the _glory!_"

"_Dwarves_." Sand's one word held centuries of contempt.

"_Elves_." Khelgar's contempt was just as century-full.

"I _win!_" Bishop crooned. Casavir looked dejected.

Ammon actually gave a hint of a smile. "Without the sane ones… one," he admitted, looking at Grace, "to balance you out, you two are going to kill each other," he gestured to Sand and Khelgar, "and _you_ two are going to kill each other."

"Your _mom_ is going to kill each other," Bishop retorted.

The other men looked at him. "What was that about my mother?" Sand asked, looking a little angry. "How _dare_ you!"

"Oh, not this again," Khelgar groaned.

"Not what?" Casavir asked him.

Bishop explained, "Just a theory I have. You see, you can respond to any statement or insult with 'your mom', and then you automatically win the argument. Nobody can challenge 'your mom'."

Khelgar sighed. "Fer the last time, ranger, that is _not_ goin' ta 'catch on.'"

"You'll see. You'll _all_ see."

"'Your mom is going to kill each other?' That didn't even make sense," Casavir muttered.

"Your _mom_ doesn't make sense."

"So, did ye all see when I bashed in the head of that one shadow?" Khelgar was clearly not giving up on talking about the glory.

"Like you bashed in the little girl's head here?" Sand said, referring to Qara, "_That_ worked out rather well."

The dwarf looked a little crestfallen as he grumbled, "She cheated."

"It's hard," Casavir started, "to remember which king you're referring to, what with there having been six hundred of him."

"_That_ was cheating," Bishop agreed.

"You were not even there," Casavir snapped. "At least, not there and _participating."_

"Your _mom_ wasn't even there."

"You know, as much as it would pain me to prove Ammon Jerro right, I would be more than willing to kill you."

"And if," Sand said threatening, "you imply anything about my mother again…" He let the threat hang.

Bishop crossed his arms and started at his boots in a huff. He mumbled something, but not even Sand's ears could pick it up.

"And you don't need to prove me right," Ammon said to Casavir, "because life proves me right. I am _always_ right."

"'cept when ya killed yer granddaughter," Khelgar pointed out.

Ammon snapped at the dwarf, "_And_ when I said the elf would kill you, because if you mention Shandra again-"

"Ye couldn't kill me even _if_ ye had yer magic, which ye _don't_!"

"And yer – er, _your_ magic sucks," Sand said disdainfully.

"My magic is infinitely better than yours."

"Is not."

"Is too."

"Is-"

The ongoing debate was cut off when Grace shifted in her sleep, the sleep clearly being disrupted by the talking around her.

Silence fell upon the men as they waited for their knight captain to drift back off. Casavir started lightly rubbing her back. "We ought to put aside petty differences," he said softly. He thought about it for a moment before looking at Bishop. "At least until every one else wakes up."

"Paladin of you," Bishop snorted.

"He's right," Sand admitted, settling back. "So… did anyone see when I cast 'Wail of the Banshee' and it actually _worked?_ Caught _me_ off-guard almost as much as it did the kings."

"_None_ of your spells work," Ammon said snidely.

"Your spells _work_, they're just _useless_," the proud mage retorted.

"I'll have you know-"

"I thought it was very impressive when Khelgar managed to hit one king into another," Casavir volunteered.

The other men stared at him. "No, no, no lad, ye got it all wrong. _Yer_ supposed to be talkin' about what _ye_ did."

"But why would I do that?"

"So ye make yerself look good!"

"But why would I do that?" Paladins have no pride.

Bishop sighed. "Because looking good impresses the ladies, paladin. There'll come a time in the future when the lady over there is going to want you to grow a pair, and the best way to start is posturing."

Casavir asked, the picture of perfect innocence, "A pair of what?"

Sand hit his forehead with his palm, henceforth known as face-palming. "Dear _gods_, Tyr in particular, _why _do you let the moronic serve you?"

"You can't _possibly_ be that naïve," Ammon said, looking a crossed between concerned and aghast. "Aren't you the one with the back-story involving the prostitute?"

"I went to Old Owl Well for reasons unbeknownst to everyone," Casavir said mysteriously, "And if you ask, I will simply say that I'm glad I found Grace, and that's all. Heaven help you if you want to ask me about anything other than Old Owl Well."

"This is why things should not be rushed," Sand commented. "Lord knows there's more to me than Luskan and my shop. But I won't tell you about any of it."

"… well, I was at Old Owl Well," Casavir said. "And she wasn't a prostitute."

"_I MEANT BALLS!"_ Bishop suddenly shouted, startling everyone (including the sleepers), _"TESTICLES!"_

"_Oh_," said Casavir, a man who had had an epiphany. "But I already have some, why would I grow more…?"

Grobnar started crying. Grace clutched her head. Neeshka smiled. "I feel _so_ much better!"

"_Know_ that I have not slept for a minute because you will not close your mouths," Zhjaeve said, sounding for all the world like she was angry. She closed her eyes again.

"I second that," Elanee said, adjusting herself to get comfortable.

"Oh, calm down," Sand pseudo-snapped at Grobnar. He looked like if he weren't feeling so undignified he would be patting Grobnar on the head. "We're not under attack by anything other than Bishop's inferiority complex."

"Your _mom_ is under attack by my inferiority complex."

"_What did I tell you about talking about my mother?_"

"Your _mom _told me about talking about your mother."

"… … and now you're just getting absurd," Ammon commented.

"Your _mom _is…" Bishop began, until Khelgar, mercifully, punched him in the kidney again.

Grace looked at Casavir and poked his plate mail, frowning. He got the hint, pulling it off down to his tunic underneath, putting it in the middle of the room, by his feet. Happier now, Grace crawled on his lap, resting her chin on his shoulder and falling back asleep.

After a moment, when the sleepers had settled back in, Casavir looked at the men and said, quite smarmily, "So, does anyone remember when I slept with the Knight Captain of Crossroad Keep?" He (lo and behold!) grinned. "Effectively using my testicles?"

"_That's_ the spirit, lad!" Khelgar cheered (softly enough as to not wake the sleepers.)

"Bishop remembers," Neeshka said with a grin. She was feeling better, but still tired, so she shot that comment out before rejoining the others in sleep.

The ranger in question was still marveling that the paladin had wit or perversion of any kind and was nursing his kidney.

Sand gave a great sigh. "Frankly, gentlemen, as much as I've enjoyed this conversation – and trust me, I haven't – I'm going to have to insist you _mercifully_ go to sleep."

"The wizard and I can do something to keep awake. Anything that doesn't involve talking," Ammon agreed.

"Good luck with that," Khelgar muttered, removing his own plate mail and putting it in a pile with Casavir's, "seeing as all the elf ever does is _talk_."

"I'll have you know that… actually, you're right," Sand's eyes widened, "Everything I do – magic, selling, skewering the laymen with my razor-sharp wit, lawyering – involves speaking. Hmm." He started to ponder the ramifications of that.

Bishop curled up and fell asleep, both hands protectively over his kidneys.

Casavir wrapped his arms around his lady love, pressing his forehead to her shoulder. He eventually fell asleep as well.


	3. The Second Night

Notes:

Does Casavir have a last name? I don't recall one, but some of you people are amazing at the canon-aspect of NWN2, and I was just wondering. I'd rather not have to make one up.

You might have noticed this (maybe not) but I've decided to deliberately ignore the ramifications of not having a toilet or some other place to go to the bathroom. I'm squeamish and really don't want to write about icky things :)

As far as updates go, my life is completely swamped during the week and so… updates and writing on weekends! Yay!

III.

"Go fish?"

"For the last damnable time, elf, there are dozens of other games we _could_ be playing!"

It was the second night. The others had already fallen back asleep and, once again, the duo of Sand and Ammon Jerro were forced to stay awake.

The barrier had been weakening as time passed, leaving the group with a definite sense of worriment over the course of the "day" (not that anyone knew what time it was outside, although Elanee was fairly certain they were on schedule with day and night). Zhjaeve had healed Grace's head long enough for another large chunk of rock to fall through the barrier and onto her head, inflicting another head wound and knocking her unconscious. Zhjaeve re-healed the wound. In a gesture of gallantry, Khelgar offered up his helmet and they put it on the unconscious knight captain's head.

Her floppy feathered hat was burned for warmth.

Other than that, the second day of their imprisonment had consisted of soft banter between the lot of them. Had they gotten trapped in a larger area, they would have clearly been able to split into two groups – the boys and Neeshka, and Casavir, Grobnar and the girls. Grace seemed to be the only one they all liked, and she was the one unconscious.

Qara hated them all with a firey, burning passion that she would make real if she could only cast spells. And so she sat, patiently biding her time and insulting them all in her mind. Oh, if only they knew how she'd _burned_ all of them!

_In time, Qara, in time… all you have to do is eat this gag and you can insult them all freely! And it will be **glorious!**_

At this time, however, she was watching the only two people awake – Sand and Jerro – play cards. Well…

She tried to say something, but it came out muffled. Sand turned and gave her the most disparaging look she'd received since the last look Sand gave her before he reached up and hit her on the back of the head. She winced with the pain before rolling her eyes.

"Do you have any fives?" Sand asked the warlock pleasantly.

"Grrrr… no. I don't."

"Then what do you saaaaay?"

"… (sigh) Go Fish."

Sand took a card.

"Do you have any eights?"

_Does your **mom** have any eights?_ Qara thought. _Oh, **burn**! Wait… Fucking ranger!_

"What are you two talking about?" Elanee asked. The poor druidess was the first to begin to show signs of suffering from the claustrophobia. She had slept fine the first night, but all day she had been fidgety and couldn't seem to fall asleep again.

"Oh, we're playing Go Fish," Sand replied jovially, "Would you like to play?"

"No you're not," Elanee replied sweetly.

"What are _you_ talking about?" the warlock demanded gruffly.

"You're not playing cards."

"What do you mean?" Sand looked concerned.

"You're not holding any cards. Why would you have brought a deck of cards to fight the King of Shadows?"

"That does seem very uncharacteristic of you," Sand pointed out to Ammon.

"_You_ brought the cards, not me."

Sand looked concerned again. "No I didn't, you did. Remember, you carried them in your magnificent top-hat."

"Oh, right, right," Ammon Jerro said in agreement.

"You… uh… you're not wearing a hat, Ammon," Elanee pointed out.

"Oh, no! The druid has gone blind!" Sand said, concern in his voice.

"Okay, look. The two of you must be sleep-deprived, that's all," Elanee said soothingly. "You must be hallucinating the deck of cards… and, um… the hat."

"But I have three fives! And my hat is absolutely glorious!" Ammon protested, holding up his 'cards' so Elanee could see them.

"You bastard, you're not supposed to lie at Go Fish!" Sand interrupted.

"You're holding up air."

"No no _no!_ Clearly _you_ are hallucinating!" Sand snapped at her, losing patience, "He is _clearly_ holding up three fives, the likes of which _he said he didn't have!"_

"I lied, wizard. Get over it."

"Grace!" Sand stretched his legs and kicked the sleeping paladin. "Wake up, you have to settle this dispute!" He turned to look at the warlock. "And she's a _paladin_, so she'll side with _me_."

"Are you _telling on me?_"

"No," the wizard said in a tone that clearly said, "Yes."

Grace's dark blue eyes opened. She got adjusted to the fact that she was wearing a helmet before she smiled at Sand broadly. "Wait! My numerous head-wounds did something to me!"

"What?" Sand didn't look like he cared. Neither did Ammon. Elanee did.

"I am going to ask you a question," the aasimar paladin said brightly.

"And I hope to be able to provide the answer."

"How are you doing?"

Silence fell between the four.

"That… that had nothing to do with Luskan," Sand breathed, "the trial, or my shop!"

"I'm cured!" she exclaimed, quietly enough to convey her happiness but not loud enough to wake the others. "Two giant chunks of rock later and I have finally escaped the conversation loops!" The other three applauded her. "I can't _wait_ until Khelgar wakes up so that I can ask him something other than who he is! Anyhow," she calmed herself, "what seems to be the problem?"

"We're playing Go Fish," Sand began. Jerro rolled his eyes. "And the warlock here indicated he had no fives, when he did, in fact, have _three_ of them!"

"Um, well… Ammon, you're not supposed to lie at Go Fish. Give him the fives."

"Oh, all right," the warlock grumbled, handing the wizard the fives.

"Thank you kindly," the wizard crooned, putting down his four Fives in a grandiose gesture.

"Now, do you two realize you aren't holding any cards?"

The two looked at each other. "_She's_ hallucinating too," Ammon said.

"They're rather obstinately refusing to realize that they are hallucinating from lack of sleep," Elanee informed her. "But at least they're not threatening to eat Grobnar, like Khelgar was."

"But last I was awake we still had rations…"

"Oh, we did. It's just that Khelgar was refusing to eat them for some reason. Says he has a craving for 'roasted gnome, over a roaring fire'. He _may_ be hallucinating too."

"Lack of oxygen, closed-in space… Wait, Elanee, when you said the word 'did'…"

"We are officially out of rations as of dinnertime," she reported.

"But I was unconscious all the time so I didn't get to eat anything!"

"So you'll starve first," Sand pointed out with a shrug. "Most likely the rest of us will eat you. You'll nobly sacrifice yourself for the greater good, just like all paladins should."

"Always a charmer, Sand."

"I try."

"Well, boys, why don't you put the cards away," Grace said soothingly, deciding to force herself to ignore her impending doom, "and we can try to keep your minds occupied with something less… insane."

"But I'm winning," Sand whined.

"_Sand_…"

"Oh, all _right_. I would have probably already won if Cheaty McCheaterstein here wasn't cheating."

"_What_ did you call me? And _I_ was winning."

"Your _mom_ was… _damn it, Bishop_!" Sand roared.

"And it's catching on," Bishop mumbled in his sleep, a slight curve on his lips.

"Neither of you were winning, because there were no cards," Elanee reminded them.

"You should do something about those hallucinations, druid," Ammon commented.

"… … yes, I'll get right on that," Elanee said patronizingly.

"Can't sleep, Khelgar will eat me," Grobnar mumbled aloud, dreaming.

"… that would've been funny if it weren't true," Elanee said sadly, listening to Grobnar's dream ramblings.

"Will one of you wake him up?" Grace asked sweetly, "His nightmare's breaking my heart."

"But I don't want to," Sand whined.

"He's really annoying," Ammon agreed. "He can never just say a sentence, everything has to be a _tangent_."

"Reminds me of _someone_ I know," Sand said, pointedly looking at Ammon.

"Yourself?"

"Your _mom!_"

"You know, Sand," Grace began, "encouraging Bishop will give him the leverage to out you as the most arrogant one of our group."

Sand looked a little concerned, "But I value that title! Granted, it's well-deserved because I am _the best_ one of our group, but you're right, we can't encourage the ranger."

"Actually, we can," Ammon pointed out, "because the _moment_ we get out of here I'm setting his betraying ass on fire."

"No, no, no," Grace said brightly, "I have a much better idea. And besides, you use _fire_ and you're giving _Qara_ too much satisfaction. And I know how much both of you loathe Qara."

"She's very loathable," Sand said, his voice carrying anger as he looked at the sorceress in question. She glared right back.

Elanee reached over Zhjaeve and Ammon to tap Grobnar. "Grobnar, dear, you're having a nightmare, you need to wake up."

The gnome's eyes popped open. "Oh _dear_, I had this dream that I was trapping in a room full of Khelgars and they were all drooly and bloodthirsty-like…"

"That's one step away from reality," Ammon said, rolling his eyes at the gnome's being awake.

"_Grace!_" Grobnar exclaimed, "You're_ awake!_ And not bleeding!"

"And able to speak!" she said cheerfully.

"But where is your nice knight cloak, the one that was yellow and made you more likeable?"

Grace looked around. Someone had taken off her armor during one of her bouts with unconsciousness and placed it in the center of the group with the others'. Her knight cloak was, as Grobnar had said, mysteriously missing. "Oh. I guess it fell off somewhere. Maybe someone will find it, know we're here and look for us?"

* * *

_Neverwinter Castle:_

"So she's dead?" Lord Nasher asked solemnly, holding the torn knight cloak in his hands.

"It seems so, Sir." Sir Nevalle looked genuinely depressed. "We found the cloak while searching the ruins of the Meredelain. There were no bodies to be found."

"I see."

"Maybe, Sir, we should-"

"No. They're _clearly_ all dead. Pity, I'm sure. Send a message to Crossroad Keep about this, and we'll give it a couple weeks before we start excavating the Mere. In the meantime, we can throw the city a 'Hey, we won!' party."

"Sounds like a good idea, Sir."

"I'll bring the punch."

* * *

_The Mere of Dead Men:_

"I'm sure that's _exactly_ what's going to happen!" Grobnar said enthusiastically.

"I can't sleep," Neeshka whined, deciding not to try anymore, "I mean, I haven't _done_ anything but insult people all day, but that's _hardly_ good exercise. Hi Qara, how are _you?_"

Qara said something back that was easily translatable into "Bite me." Neeshka stuck her tongue out at her.

Sand hit her on the back of the head. "Neeshka, _Neeshka_, _honestly_, if Qara gets uppity, just ask me to hit her. It's much more satisfying than just sticking your tongue out at her – after all, that doesn't cause her physical pain."

"Point." Neeshka stretched out her long legs at an angle that put them between Grobnar and Sand. "So, kids, what's for dinner?"

"You already _ate_ dinner," Elanee reminded her.

"Oh, right. So what's for dessert?"

"Nothing. We're out of rations."

Neeshka's eyes went wide. "_Seriously?_ But… but… what are we going to _eat?_"

"Delicious _gnome_, roasted in garlic," Khelgar grumbled in his sleep.

"You're not going to let him eat me, are you?" Grobnar asked, huddling into himself a little bit.

"I love garlic," Ammon muttered.

Grace sighed, holding out her arms. "Come on over here, Grobnar. I won't let anyone eat you."

"Do you really mean that? Because I can't handle the threat of being caved-in, the threat of starvation, the threat of lack of oxygen _and_ the threat of ravenous dwarf!"

Grace nodded. "Yes, I mean it." She always thought the gnome was funny. She might have been the only one.

_Grobnar: Gained Influence 4_

"_Yes!_" she exclaimed.

Grobnar crossed the room and planted himself between Casavir and Grace, which would have made the former paladin move closer to Bishop – so, because he was repelled by the idea, Casavir picked Grobnar up and placed him between himself and Bishop.

"Since when have you been awake?" Grace inquired of her knight.

"It's hard to sleep when you have spent the entire day doing nothing. Most of us have not had the liberty of having rocks fall on our heads to help us 'sleep.'"

"Fair enough."

"I'm not entirely sure how safe I feel sitting here," Grobnar began, "After all, it's highly likely that when Casavir decides to kill Bishop I'll get caught in the middle…"

"I could take him," Bishop asserted. It was becoming apparent that everyone was _trying_ sleep but failing.

"You could not," everyone replied in essence. Neeshka had just snorted and Sand went into the logistics of the paladin and the ranger in a duel and how the paladin would wipe the floor with the aforementioned ranger. For the string of insults Bishop had just one answer:

"Your _mom_ would lose in a fight to a paladin."

Sand tried to stand up in anger but ended up hitting his head on his own barrier. Bishop laughed at him. Well, Bishop, being Bishop, just chuckled.

"So, Grace," Neeshka spoke up, deciding to help Sand out with the burning of Bishop, "why did you choose Casavir over Bishop?"

Grace froze.

"Awkward!" Grobnar sang.


	4. Second Night  Third Day

Notes:

1. Yeah, I started another game, this time as (wait for it, wait for it…) a neutral-good cleric! Not a paladin! I'm so proud of myself right now, but by the end of the game I'm going to end up being lawful-good. Sigh. Yay spring break!

2. I noticed I used the word "chose" instead of "choose" and I am so anal I had to change it.

WARNING: This chapter has more swearing than the others. Please don't hate me.

IV

Grace wasn't exactly sure where to begin. Apparently her love life was the subject of gossip amongst her subordinates, because _all_ of them were looking at her expectantly and eagerly.

"I always thought you were going to pick the ranger," Neeshka began, trying to break the silence and get Grace communicating, "You know, the good-girl-bad-guy thing."

"No, she was definitely going to pick Casavir," Elanee said.

"Well, of course you say that _now_, seeing as she _did_," Neeshka muttered, "but for awhile there it seemed to be _all_ in the ranger's grasp."

"Up until he broke the gates so that the undead could kill her?" Grobnar asked brightly.

"That put a strain on the relationship, yeah."

Grace was still thinking about it. She pulled off the helmet Khelgar had put on her head and began moving it around in her hands as she mulled over the concept.

* * *

_Shandra had been kidnapped._

_Never had Grace felt quite so guilty. "How did the githyanki get into the city?" Duncan demanded of no one in particular._

_The strange ranger who'd been getting wasted in the bar reported, "They have some duskwood strapped to their boots. They're from deep within Luskan territory."_

_"Luskan? That's **your** territory, Bishop!" Duncan responded, sounding a little bright._

_"Not my problem."_

_Grace had hated this ranger since he told her she was a whore (something about "brothels", if she recalled correctly). She suppressed all paladin inclinations and practically snarled at the ranger, "If you don't guide us… I will make you eat your own testicles."_

_Bishop gulped. "Consider yourself guided!"_

_

* * *

_

_Ember had been burned to the ground. Grace was slowly walking through the destruction, her eyes wide as she tried looking for survivors, knowing in vain that there-_

_"Hello."_

_She apparently had been looking too high up. Huddling near a building was a young boy, his clothes scorched into rags. "You have something I need," the boy said calmly, "to survive."_

_"Oh, okay," she responded, trying hard to act like this was normal, "why don't you look through my pack and see if there's something you can use."_

_"Whoa. The air around him is **shimmering**," Qara said, looking awed. _

_"It's something **he** has," the boy pointed to Bishop._

_"Whoa. I don't think so."_

_"Bishop, let him look."_

_"No." Bishop crossed his arms in a gesture of defiance. _

_"Bishop," Grace said, trying her hardest to sound more authoritarian, "let him look."_

_"**No.**"_

_She gave a sigh then held up her hands and snapped her fingers. "Khelgar!" _

_Khelgar turned and slugged Bishop in the kidney._

_The ranger went to his knees. "He can look!" he choked out. _

_"That doesn't get old," the paladin said appreciatively._

_"It's **fun** hittin' people." The dwarf **did** look happy.

* * *

_

_"Hey baby," Bishop purred to Shandra as they opened her cage, "You know how this works, right? We save your life, you're eternally grateful, bada-bing, bada-bang?"_

_"What?" Shandra looked ready to slap him._

_Grace snapped her fingers. "Khelgar!"_

_Khelgar hit him in the kidney._

_"Fine, fine," Bishop gasped out, "You can just keep **Grace** company!"_

_Both women stared at him incredulously._

_"Sorry lass," Khelgar said apologetically, "I can't rightfully hit him for that." The men had identical looks of thought on their faces that made Shandra roll her eyes. _

_Grace kicked Bishop in the crotch. Repeatedly. _

_"I like you," Shandra told her. _

_"Thanks," she said back with one last swift kick. Bishop was curled on the floor in a fetal position. "Sometimes I like me too."

* * *

_

_"So we should leave here," Bishop told Grace during down time. The others were scattered about the Flagon, Qara and Sand bickering, Neeshka and Khelgar bickering, Grobnar dancing and singing, Casavir glowering the corner. _

_"What?"_

_"I mean it. We could leave, no one would ever find us. Get back to nature."_

_"That wouldn't be too bad," she admitted, "but I'm useless in the woods."_

_"I noticed."_

_"Thanks."_

_"It would piss off the paladin, too."_

_She shrugged. "Not sure Casavir feels 'pissed-off-ness'." _

_"And you might have a point. So… if I asked, what would you say?"_

_She thought about it. "It would depend on when you asked."_

_"Really?"_

_"No. I hate you." She giggled. "Had you goin' there, didn't I?"_

_"No," he said in a tone that clearly said "Yes."

* * *

_

_"This is Malin. We used to work together," Bishop snorted derisively. The other ranger looked offended. "She really sucks."_

_"Be nice," Grace said with an eye-roll. _

_"Don't worry about it. I'm used to it," the other woman replied._

_"You're lucky you have me," Bishop crooned. _

_Grace sighed. "If you don't stop posturing, I'm going to rip off your testicles, shove them down your throat, have Elanee heal you so I can do it again, and I will continue to do it until your stomach bursts."_

_Elanee smiled innocently._

_"I suck," Bishop squeaked.

* * *

_

_They were in the midst of completing the Ritual of Purification and were just beginning to explore the gem mines. Grace was flanked by Zhjaeve, Shandra, Casavir and Bishop. They were speaking to the ghost of an elf, who was clearly berating the former Guardian of Illefarn for sacrificing himself. _

_"What he did was noble," Grace said._

_Bishop looked insulted. "What? Committing suicide is **good**? Sacrificing oneself for one's county without regard to one's personal self-interest is something you crack-heads think is a good idea?"_

_Casavir and Grace stared at him. "Well, yes!" the paladins said in unison._

_"Morons."_

_"Well, Khelgar isn't here," Grace mused, "So, Casavir, will you do the honors?"_

_"Of course, my Lady." Casavir turned and hit Bishop in the kidney.

* * *

_

_"The gates will hold!" Grace called, trying her best to sound as Captainly as possible. The battle for Crossroad Keep was underway, almost won. "And the Sun is on our side!"_

_"Well, these gates **would** hold…" Bishop sounded like he was thoughtfully considering something, "If I hadn't just busted the holding mechanism."_

_The group stared at him. "If you hadn't just done WHAT?" Neeshka demanded._

_"Betrayed us," Ammon told her. _

_"Ah. That's what I thought."_

_"**Know **that the King of Shadows' influence makes his undead immune to the sun," Zhjaeve said helpfully._

_"I called the betrayal," Casavir observed. _

_"And the reason you're not gettin' any money," Khelgar told him, "is 'cause we all knew he was goin' to."_

_"Well, if any of you had taken me up on my bet, I would be a rich man."_

_"Did you just break the gate?" Grace asked, her voice a deadly whisper._

_Bishop started taking quick steps back. "Maybe."_

_"Did you. Just break. The gate?"_

_Bishop sprinted away. "I WATCHED YOU SLEEP WITH THE PALADIN!" he called back over his shoulder._

_"NEXT TIME I SEE YOU, YOUR TESTICLES ARE GOING UP YOUR **ASS** INTO YOUR STOMACH!" She frowned after he was too far away to hear her continued threats. "All right, boys and girls, let's smite some undead."

* * *

_

_"Bishop," Casavir spat._

_"Welcome to the slaughter, lambs," Bishop crooned, stepping out of the shadows to stand next to Garius._

_"I'm sure you have a speech prepared," Grace spoke up, "but I-"_

_"I love you!" he blurted._

_Everyone froze._

_"What?" Casavir asked._

_"What?" Grace echoed._

_"I've loved you since the day we met and you threatened my life! The language of love!"_

_"Ranger? What in the hells are you blabbing on about?" Even Garius looked confused._

_"Come **on**, Grace, you couldn't **possibly**_ _think that I didn't find it a turn-on that you so brazenly threatened to maim me!"_

_"Oh dear," Grace said, blushing darker than her hair._

_"That's why I hung around!" he continued, "Just hoping I could get into bed with you and you'd threaten me in private!"_

Why am I turned on?_ Grace thought. _

_"Can I kill him now?" Casavir asked eagerly._

_"I would have **died **for you," he continued, "but you always had to side with the paladin!"_

_Ammon snorted. _

_"It's not so much "siding with as having the exact same set of morals as," Grobnar pointed out jovially. _

_"Wait, wait, wait," Garius waved his hands to get their attention. "Wait. You're supposed to be attacking me."_

_And so the conversation continued on, Bishop leaving, but not going far…

* * *

_

"Lady Grace's relationships are nobody's business but-"

"Answer the question already before my ears bleed from the discussion!" Ammon snapped.

"I think," she began, "it all comes down to the future." And the hate. "You know, with Bishop there was no guarantee I would ever wake up the next morning. With Casavir…"

"I'm dependable," Casavir asserted.

"You wouldn't wake up," Bishop added, "but not because I killed you." He actually winked. She sighed, as if she expected it. "But, c'mon, the future? I… I can see a future with you."

"Really?"

"Sure." He shrugged. Poor Bishop was trying to appear tough to the others and considerate to her. Not an easy task, and one that he was failing at.

* * *

_A little girl with long rust-red hair in pigtails raced through a large log cabin. "Big brover! Big brover!"_

_A young boy, older than the girl, glared at her. "What?"_

_"Bishop!" she squealed, "I found a squirrel! See!" she held it up._

_Little Bishop pulled out a dagger and cut the squirrel's spinal cord. The little girl's eyes grew wide. "The weak die! Squirrels are weak. You should know that by now, Bishoppa."_

_"He'd stiww be awive if you hadn't **kiwwed** him! I'm tewwing Daddy!"_

_"Father will agree with **me!**"_

_"… then I'm tewwing Mommy!"_

_"SHIT!"

* * *

_

"You named _both_ of our children after _you?!" _Grace shouted at him.

"_Bishop_ is a great name!"

"I'm staying out of this conversation." Sand wiped his hands of commentating.

"_Know_ that I agree," Zhjaeve commented, "as this conversation is clearly something incomprehensible to those of us who are normal."

"Great name," Grace was continuing to shout, "for a _priest!_ And good job teaching our son to be a _jackass_ like _you!_"

"Erm, Lady Grace?" Casavir chimed in tentatively.

"What?!" both Bishop and Grace shouted at him in unison.

He looked a little bit nervous as he said, "You two aren't married, nor are you having children."

"And if you think you'd do any better, Holier-Than-Thou Man," Bishop sneered, pointing at Casavir, "you are _dead wrong_."

"Of course I would do better."

* * *

_The same little girl as before was running through a noble's home, once again trying to find her big brother. "Big broooover!"_

_"What is it, little sister?" asked the dark-haired boy._

_"I found this symbol!" the little girl held up a holy symbol of Lathander, owned by her mother. "Isn't it pwetty, Casavir?"_

_The young boy snorted. "Ah, little Casavira, how naïve thou art. Lathander is an immature god, one who does not warrant the attention or devotion owed to Tyr!"_

_"But…"_

_"All you need," he patted the young girl on the head, "is devotion, and purity, and honor. And justice."_

_"But what about creativity, youthful expression? Always believing in a new day? The dawn?"_

_"Pointless wastes of time. All you need is **justice**_**!"

* * *

**

"Here's hoping you never have any boys, apparently," Neeshka said.

"What do you **_mean_ **_following Lathander is a waste of time?" _Grace snapped at Casavir.

The other paladin looked defensive. "I'm just _saying_ that if you're truthfully considering being a paladin, perhaps you ought to choose a god more associated with the task?"

"I… I… 'considering'… I…" Grace clearly wasn't able to talk around the rage.

"Hey Neeshka," Bishop said around the two, "good job breaking them up."  
"Ah, they were a boring couple anyway. Plus you're probably _way_ better in bed."

"Duh. Soulless, evil people just _are._"

Qara nodded her agreement enthusiastically. Sand rolled his eyes.

"So are demons," Neeshka asserted.

"Bloody hell, this conversation is _ridiculous,_" Khelgar interrupted. They all looked to the dwarf. Expecting him to go on some tirade about how this was a private conversation, he surprised them all by declaring, "Because we _all_ know that once ya go dwarf, ya never go back!"

Qara retorted to that in what everyone was sure was very insulting, but it didn't matter because she still hadn't managed to eat through her gag.

"Allow me to translate for Qara here," Sand began, "I believe she said something akin to 'because those who sleep with dwarves find themselves turning asexual.' Was that the gist of it?" She nodded, looking pleased.

"Why are ya translatin' fer her now?" Khelgar had to ask, looking rather offended.

"Anybody who takes the time to insult dwarves is a friend in my book," the vain elf replied airily, "Well, this is barring that I still hate Qara, but you know how it is."

"_WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'CONSIDERING BECOMING A PALADIN'!" _

For the first time since she had a small conversation with her father about getting some merchant some firs, Grace Slick, the _kalach-cha,_ the Knight Captain of Crossroad Keep, actually lost her temper at the person least likely (or so they all thought) to provoke it. _"DO YOU WANT TO EXPLAIN TO ME, CASAVIR, WHAT **EXACTLY** DID YOU MEAN BY IMPLYING THAT I HAVE **NOT** SPENT MY ENTIRE HEAVEN-BLESSED LIFE BLEEDING TRUTH AND JUSTICE, TRAINING IN THE FINE ARTS OF SWORDSMANSHIP, SAVING YOUR SORRY EXCUSE OF AN ANGST-RIDDEN LIFE, KILLING COUNTLESS MOTHER-FUCKING GITH-"_

"_Know_ that we do not copulate with our mothers," Zhjaeve interjected lightly.

Grace stopped her tirade and started at Zhjaeve. "I… I… … … … … sorry."

The githzerai continued, "I have heard that phrase many times – this 'mother-fucking gith' phrase that you spoke – and I felt as if this were some rumor that I should put to rest."

An awkward silence fell between the group.

"Aw, that could have been really fun," Bishop whined.

"Yeah, totally." Neeshka looked glum. "I really thought she was going to kill him."

"That would have been _hilarious_."

Qara nodded with an "uh-huh!" behind her gag.

"Why are you all rooting for my death?" Casavir grumbled, more to himself than to the group.

"I hope I'm not _really_ stating the obvious," Ammon drawled, "but if our noble leader, the one who's managed to put up with _you_ pack of weirdos and still come out functional-"

"And you're a bright ray of sunshine on a cloudy day," Neeshka shot back.

"We might not end up dying of starvation or dehydration or of a cave-in… we might just end up actually killing each other."

More silence.

"I bet that the ranger will be the first to go," Sand said jovially.

"I'll take you up on that bet!" Neeshka looked enthusiastic again. "The gnome's definitely going to die first."

"Not if I kill the traitor myself," Sand replied, "or just keep reminding everyone that he _did_ betray us twice because he doesn't like Duncan and has a crush on Grace…"

The team looked at Bishop, who looked nervous and held up his hands in a placating gesture, "Aw, and we were getting along so well!" When the looks did not abate, he shouted, "Graaaaaaaace, Casavir said you're a sucky paladin!"

Casavir was surprised at how fast Grace's hands were locked around his throat, and even _more_ surprised at how damn _strong_ she was.

The irony of the situation is that if Bishop had kept his mouth shut she might actually have finished choking Casavir to death, what with Casavir far too noble to ever hit his lady. But Bishop had to begin the chant of, "Kill _him _kill _him_ kill _him_!" which made Grace, in turn, pause thoughtfully.

"You know what?" she said, her hands still around Casavir's neck but no longer choking, "The question of who did I choose and why…? I choose _neither of you_, because _you both **suck!**_" She hopped off Casavir, moving away to sit next to Neeshka.

Casavir looked like the sky was falling. Bishop didn't look much happier.

Awkward silence once again settled in. It was starting to lose its edge because they were all so used to it by now.

"So," Sand began, never one to let silence reign, "Anyone want to play Go Fish?"

"Your _mom_ wants to play Go Fish."

Khelgar hit Bishop in the kidney.


	5. The Fourth and Final Day

Notes:

Thank you all so much for reviews! I'm glad you seem to be enjoying this as much as I enjoy writing it! I actually gasp have finished this! I'm planning a sequel that's not in the same genre, but I'm still impressed that I've actually finished something I've started.

The song was written by my brother, not me. I'm a little scared (and a little impressed) he thought of it.

So my new cleric is about to get going on the Ritual of Purification, and I somehow managed to get her from neutral good to lawful good. Sigh. But on the plus side, there's a cheat code that lets you take 6 people along (I love googling things!) and it is FUN to finally get to see all of the banter I missed out on the first two times.

Don't worry, there's not as much violence in this one.

But unless something comes to mind, this story, as a unit, is done. Short and sweet, methinks. Thanks for coming along for the ride!

V

Twenty-four hours of silence had elapsed between when we last saw our heroes and now. "Silence", of course, in the sense that nothing of value was being said – nearly every time someone spoke (usually Sand, Khelgar or Neeshka), someone else would counter it (usually Sand, Khelgar or Neeshka) with a "your mom" retort. Bishop, who was devilishly pleased that "your mom" was catching on, wisely did not say as such, fearing for his very bruised right kidney.

Elanee huddled into herself, closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to her knees. The poor druidess was now squished between Grace and Zhjaeve, as Grace had moved in the space between Neeshka and Elanee to escape her suitors and Neeshka stubbornly refused to move closer to Casavir.

This was because apparently Neeshka hadn't been exaggerating when she claimed paladins made her skin itch, as she was now between Casavir and Grace and was scratching the heck out of her now-bleeding skin. It had been all right when she was making contact with just one of them, but being surrounded…

Ammon had explained to Zhjaeve exactly why the phrase "mother-fucking gith" had nothing to do with giths' tendency to copulate with their mothers, and now the githzerai was enraged. When asked:

"We were _talking_ about the _other_ gith," Khelgar tried to explain to her, "The _other_ gith, the ones yer people hate?"

"_Know_ that you never bothered to differentiate between our two races before," the priestess retorted, "thus I have every right to be offended. _Know_ that I have been more than accommodating with your people's inability to comprehend the vast rift and numerous differences between the githyanki and the githzerai. I use for an example the ranger, who has continuously referred to me as 'the githyanki chick,' referring to me not only as a loathed githyanki but also as a chicken."

"Yeah? So?" Bishop tried to appear like he wasn't terrified she was going to use her vast amounts of death magic on him at a close distance.

So Zhjaeve went completely silent, glaring foully at them all, the façade of caring dropped in favor of an emotion these heroes knew well: rage.

Casavir was silently pondering if committing some sort of ritualistic suicide would restore his honor and favor with his Grace.

Worst off of them all, however, was Grobnar, the poor gnome who was now trying very hard to dig his way out, nervously glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one attacked him from behind. For Khelgar was behaving rather well unless the subject of food was brought up, and _then_ he began drooling and looking at Grobnar with bloodlust in his beady dwarven eyes. On the plus side, Grobnar was using his Wenderkazoo to dig through the rock behind him (which made everyone nervous because it meant the barrier was that weak) and, because rocks were falling without being touched it proved the existence of the invisible kazoo (Granted, at this point, they could have very well been hallucinating the movement of the rocks. Or, perhaps, their insanity had actually MADE the kazoo real. It was difficult to tell with such things). On the minus side, Grobnar was being fantastized about as a giant pig with a gnome head and an apple in his mouth by a ravenous dwarf.

In a steep competition for the title of being the worst off were the duo of Sand and Ammon Jerro, who had, at this point, not slept for four days and not eaten for two.

"So, I noticed you bought a new ribbon for your stylish top hat," Sand said appraisingly.

Ammon responded, "Yes, yes, I think red is my color, don't you?"

"Oh, certainly, certainly. What do you think, Rodney?"

Silence.

"Well, you have a point," Ammon said begrudgingly, "yellow _does_ bring out the color of my glowing tattoos."

"But red suits you so well! It's like the blood of your victims!" Sand whined.

"Boys," poor Elanee began, feeling it necessary to try to mitigate damages, "who's Rodney?"

The two rolled their eyes in syncopation. "Rodney? Hellooooo, he's right here," Sand gestured between himself and Ammon, to the empty space that was not large enough to fit anyone but the hurriedly-digging gnome bard. "I _suppose_ he hasn't introduced himself to everyone yet, so everyone, this is Rodney." Silence. "Rodney, this is everyone."

"Rodney's a good chap," Ammon began, "aye, e's a good bloke."

Elanee blinked. "…Ammon, did you just start speaking with an accent?"

"I 'aven't got a bleedin' idea what ya moight be speakin' of, guvnah." Ammon said.

"Okay, is there any way we can get these two to sleep?" Neeshka asked, "Because every time they talk to their invisible friend I can _feel_ the weight of the temple around us close in just a _little_ more." She started scratching her legs. "Less than a comforting thought."

"So we need to take a more proactive approach," Grace mused softly, "otherwise we _are_ going to die down here, and this is not the way I want to go. Is there any way at all we can… combine all of our magics together and push _out_? Or something?"

"It is _theoretical_," Sand began, "Although we haven't tried it for a reason. Mixing arcane and god-given magics together rarely works out well."  
"At this point," Ammon admitted, "we might as well try it."

"Okay. So, everyone – Sand, Ammon, Zhjaeve, Casavir, Elanee, myself, Bishop, Grobnar-"

"Gnoooooooooome," Khelgar growled. Grobnar squeaked and started digging more furiously.

"Rumblebelly has a point," Neeshka began, "The gnome looks _damnably_ delicious."

"Not you too!" the poor bard squeaked.

A soft piano number started playing in the background.

Neehska and Khelgar were suddenly dressed in suits and top hats. As they began singing, they slowly walked to the center of the stage.

"Oh, we could eat the Captain, but she wears a hard metal shell

Warlocks are more tender, but they frankly taste like Hell (literally)

The sorceress is too spicy, the paladin too bland,

And the mage is dry and grainy, like he was made of Sand

The thief is really stringy, the monk is much too thick

The ranger is so damn slimy, he'd probably make us sick.

What can we eat? It just isn't fair!

There's nothing to eat! We're filled with despair!

We need something juicy and sweet!

Something luscious and filling, a wonderful meat!

What fills us up like mom's cooking at home?

Gnome, gnome, gnome!"

The music grew more lively, involving the whole orchestra, and in unison Neeshka and Khelgar were tossed canes. They sang, dancing together:

"Gnome! We think its great!

Gnome! Makes us salivate!

Gnome! Tender and rich!

Gnome! Let's cook that little bitch!

The facts of life are hard to face,

Sometimes they're very sad.

With a cave-in we lost the race,

And now we're going mad.

We need some food to raise our strength,

and keep our resolve hard.

And nothing whets our appetite,

Like a gnome that is a bard.

Gnomes are tender and juicy,  
Bards are seasoned and sweet!

Add the two together,

And you've got a delightful treat!

And if we feel guilty,

At the end of this sad day,

We can just remember,

He'd have probably died anyway!

Gnome! We think its great!

Gnome! Makes us salivate!

Gnome! Tender and rich!

Gnome! Let's cook that little bitch!"

The stage lit up brightly, revealing a whole host of similarly-dressed backup dancers, who all danced together while our heroes sang on:

"It's survival of the fittest, down in this rocky Hell.  
We don't know who the fittest is,

But the_ least _fit we know quite well!

Grobnar's not too useful, he is awfully fragile,

He isn't very clever, he isn't very agile.

His spells are not much help in fights,

He cannot handle steel.

He made us hunt a 'Wendersnaven',

Which isn't even real!

Yes Grobnar is the weakest link,

It's time to say good-bye,

We'll surely miss his psychosis,

When we set him down to fry.

Or maybe we'll douse him in barbecue sauce,

And make him honey-sweet.

Or he'd also taste good broiled,

With tomatoes on whole-wheat.

There are many ways to prepare gnome,

And all are so delicious.

Grobnar will save all our lives,

He's so filling and nutritious.

Grobnar we salute you, for doing this great thing!

We'll remember you forever,

… I call dibs on the wing."

They sang the chorus again, starting out slowly as the backup dancers joined them and all began singing and kicking in time to the music. The chorus grew faster and faster, and after another round of it they held out the last note, "biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitch!" and everyone stopped, pointing Neeshka and Khelgar as if to say "Tah-dah!"

"Neeshka? Khelgar? Is something the matter?" Elanee asked sweetly, "You two are both staring off into space."

"You are a _damn_ good singer, demon girl!" Khelgar said, sounding impressed.

"Why, thank you, tubby! You're not half bad yourself! Now, about that delicious meal…"

"Oh, merciful Gods, are they having a synchronized hallucination?" Elanee asked in terror.

"What? You didn't like our musical number?" Neeshka asked, her eyes focusing in two different directions.

Silence.

"So, about getting out of here…" Grace looked to Sand.

Sand himself looked irritated as he glanced sideways at Qara. "I hate to admit it… but part of the reason I hate Qara so is due to her raw power… and raw power is exactly what we need."

Qara smirked arrogantly and everyone watched as her gag fell off. "And I'm _done!_" she crooned, "The gag is _off!_"

Quickly Khelgar reached up and planted a hand over her mouth. She started protesting to this loudly and with many squeals until Grace said, "Qara, Khelgar will remove his hand if you promise to help us get out of here. Think about it – if you don't help us, even if you set us on fire, _you'll_ still die when the whole thing comes crashing down."

She nodded and, after much cajoling, Khelgar removed his hand. "Well, _duh. _You think I wanna be stuck down here any more than you guys do? I wanna get out of here and _then_ kill Sand. And Ammon. And the ranger. And the stupid fat-bellied-"

"Oy, don't be startin' there, firebrand! We all know that I can easily kill ya if need be!"

"Jerro, why are ya talkin' like a dwarf…?"

"Oh no, he's changing accents at random! That can't be a good sign! We need to get some food in him, fast!" Grace said.  
Things began rumbling.

"What's going on?" Grobnar asked, huddling into himself.

"It's caving in!" Casavir shouted.

"We're all going to _die!_" Neeshka exclaimed.

"All right, everyone, we need to-" Sand began, but went silent when they heard voices from beyond the ceasing-to-rumble rocks.

"By all the gods and their mothers, boy, we don't want to cave in the people down there! Be careful!"

"I am not entirely convinced that there_ are_ people down there, Viviane! Just because _you_ sense some arcane magic doesn't mean-"

"I sense it too, lordling. There are people down there, but _why_ we are _bothering_ doesn't-"

"Because to keep you, Viconia and Sarevok happy we set that one guy on fire, so _now_, to make Anomen and Keldorn happy, we're saving the trapped adventurers! So shut up and start digging, or magicking things away or _something_ before I _exile_ your testicles from your body, Irenicus!"

The group still huddled beneath the debris looked at each other. "And it sounds like Grace has a long-lost sister," Bishop observed.

She shrugged. "Testicles are very threaten-able, what can I say."

Sand looked like he'd never been happier. "We're being rescued! We're going to survive!"

"Oui, monsieur! Our salvation, she eez close at hand! Haw haw haw!" Ammon laughed in perhaps the worst French accent any of them had ever heard.

Sand shrugged, too happy to care. He hugged Ammon, who hugged him back. Both men turned to hug the persons sitting on the other sides of them – Qara and Zhjaeve, respectfully – who both glared foully as they were forced into hugs.

"We didn't need to be _rescued_," Qara spat. "Now that I've eaten through my gag I _totally_ could have saved us all." Sand hit her on the back of the head.

After the digging out had been accomplished, the two adventuring groups faced off. Grace and the leader of the other group shook hands.

"Before ye all do the talkin' thing, we need to be doin' the _eatin'_ thing," Khelgar demanded.

"Oh. Um." The leader of this group was a frail-looking pale elf with hair so light it was almost white which fell thickly to her shoulder blades. She was wearing a set of pricy-looking mage robes. "I guess we can spare some rations. We over-packed because _someone_, who shall not be named, eats more in one sitting than some people eat in their whole lives, _Sarevok_."

"I can see why he'd eat so much," Elanee confessed. The one called Sarevok was at least seven feet tall and pure muscle, and looked like some harbinger of destruction in his blood-stained plate mail.

While the second group ate every single piece of food that the first group had brought with them, Grace and the elf began talking.

"Hi!" she began, "I'm Viviane! You've probably heard of me." It may have been Grace's imagination, but she was _certain_ she heard one of this woman's adventuring party groan. "I'm the Daughter of Bhaal – 'Child of Bhaal' just sounds so _impersonal_ – and I'm the hero of so many places I've lost track! Baldur's Gate, Suldanessalar, Amkethran, Trademeet, Athkatla… Anyhow, this is my husband, Anomen, who wishes he was a paladin-"

The knight in question, a young, handsome knight with trim facial hair, sighed. "My lady, you _need_ to stop-"

"This is Keldorn," she continued, gesturing to an older, experienced-looking man, "who _is_ a paladin; this is my brother Sarevok, the Terror of the Sword Coast, this is Viconia, who's a drow,"

"In case they couldn't tell by looking at me," the priestess in question drawled.

"And lastly, this is Jon Irenicus, Shattered One, the Exile and," this last bit she said addressing the tall male mage directly, "the bane of my existence!"

"I can guarantee this, Child of Bhaal – being in your presence again causes me intense mental anguish so great I feel physical pain."

"Well your constant yammering causes me _genuine_ physical pain! I've had a migraine since the day I made the worst mistake of my life and brought you back! Why, oh why, didn't Demogorgon take me seriously when I tried to sell you to him? I would have done it! I would have given you away for free!"

"And consequently died when your miniscule pea-brain failed to anticipate some glaringly obvious threat and you were horribly killed by something that I could have anticipated and defeated with ease."

"… Sarevok!" she snapped.

The huge armored _thing_ of a man turned and planted a large fist into the wizard's midsection. As the Exile collapsed to the ground, Sarevok nodded thoughtfully. "And it's still fun."

"Excellent. And you all are…?"

Grace began, "My name's Grace, hero of Neverwinter and, well, I guess you _could_ say the hero of everything in a wide range of here."

The pale elf's eyebrow rose. "Wasn't the hero of Neverwinter a man?"

"Oh, that was the _last_ hero of Neverwinter. The one who took care of the plague, right?"

"Ahhh. I see. Then who was the one who saved Waterdeep from Mephistopholes? Sorry, I just get us heroes confused."

"That was a woman," Grace reported thoughtfully, "I forget her name, but according to her pet kobold she went off and is currently having dozens of children with her tiefling boyfriend, who is allegedly magnificent in bed."

"All tieflings are," Neeshka interjected, looking smug and munching on some chicken salad.

"She had a pet kobold?"  
"He owns a shop in my keep."

"Ooo, you have a _keep?_ _Very_ nice. All I have is a lame planar sphere. Very boring. I used to have a pocket plane, but it sorta collapsed on me…"

"Thank you! Anyhow, that's Casavir, who's a paladin-"

"See sweetie, that's a _real_ paladin," Viviane said to Anomen with a very patronizing tone. The warpriest of Helm clenched his teeth and fists in order to not lose his temper.

"Khelgar, who's a dwarf going through an identity crisis-"

"I'm a _monk_, lass!"

"Then ditch the hammer!"

"But… but I _like _the hammer. It's so big…"

"That's Neeshka, who's a thief; Elanee, a druid; Bishop, a betrayer ranger-"

"Oh, come _on_, surely we've moved beyond that?"

"Qara, a betrayer sorceress; Sand, our group's mage; Ammon, a warlock; Grobnar, who's a bard-"

"A gnome _bard_," Irenicus muttered to Sarevok, "Have you ever heard of anything more _useless?_"

"As opposed to _all_ bards?"

"Touché."

"And that's Zhjaeve, who's a gith_zerai_, _not_ a hated githyanki, whom we hate." Zhjaeve nodded in acceptance of that.

"Ugh. I hate githyanki. Sinking our ship, making us wander through that horrible Sahaugin deathtrap of a city where _everything_ smelled like day-old salmon, abandoning us in the Mind Flayer lair…" Anomen said.

"Why, as Grace mentioned, _know _that I hate githyanki as well!" Zhjaeve said. "Also, I am a priest!"

"No way! Me too!" Anomen said.

"Really! Are you dignified and intellectual, like me?"

"If by 'dignified' you mean 'boring', and by 'intellectual' you mean 'likes to hear himself talk,' then yes. Yes he is," Viviane said fondly.

"Don't listen to her," Anomen sniffed. "Lovely as she is, my lady simply does not appreciate the subtleties of a-"

"Boring and annoying," Viviane interjected.

"-priest. I love you too, darling. I'm _exceedingly_ glad my children are half you."

"Yes, yes. Subtle," Zhjaeve agreed knowingly.

"Eclectic bunch you got there," Viviane said, apparently choosing to ignore the annoying, boring githyanki-hating priests. "So, what brings you all here?"

"We just finished slaying the King of Shadows and then his lair of evil caved in on us."

"Awww, that's what _we_ were gonna do!" She looked dejected.

"You mean we walked all the way from Athkatla, I came out of _retirement_, to smite an evil which was already smote?" Keldorn asked, looking irritated.

"We performed some charity by digging these people out! You should be happy! You love charity!" Viviane protested.

"This is true."

"Charity makes the world a better place," Casavir agreed.

"The poor are poor for a reason and do not need aid! Why, these fools were probably simply drunk and not even caved in!" Anomen snapped.

"… Drunk?" Grace asked, jaw dropping. "Did you… did you not see the rocks?"

"And that is why you will never be a paladin. That attitude limits you, boy," Keldorn told him patronizingly.

"For the last time, I am a warpriest of Helm, I am _not_ aspiring to be a paladin!"

"Yes you are, sweetie," Viviane replied absently. "So, this King of Shadows that we were going to smite, how tough was he?"

"Not very," Grace admitted, "except that there was about five hundred of him."

"Almost as many as there are of them," Irenicus observed to himself.

"The dragon was harder," Grace continued.

Viviane's group looked at each other and shared a laugh that managed to be condescending. "Oh, remember when _we_ were that young? When dragons were a challenge?"

"Now they're just very large doorstops," Sarevok said jovially. It was disconcerting to see evil so amused.

"So what do we do now, _ibblith?_ I was promised dark dealings with this King of Shadows. Shar has been something of a bitch lately, and I could use a new source of dark power in case she decides to be fickle and dump me," Viconia said.

"Well… we could take these kids home and go visit Neverwinter? Neverwinter periodically gets invaded or plagued or beset by _something_, so there _has_ to be something we can do there."

"Your _mom_ gets periodically invaded or plagued or beset by something," Sand retorted.

"My mom is dead. She was a homicidal lunatic who tried to sacrifice me when I was a baby so my evil god father could come back to life."

"… oh."

"My job has been done here," Bishop said, standing up and brushing crumbs off his tunic, "so if you'll excuse me, I'm going to run away and ideally never see any of you again."

"Except for Grace, because you're going to stalk her," Neeshka pointed out cheerfully.

"Well, there _is_ – er, no, I wouldn't do that. Bye!" he sprinted off.

"Didn't you say he betrayed you?" Viviane asked Grace.

"Well, he did, but he has a lot of things that he doesn't want people knowing – for example, betraying Luskan, burning down his home town, and betraying me – that I'm going to tell everyone as soon as I get back. That boy's going to be hunted for the rest of his life and that amuses me."

"You should have just ripped out his intestines and used his skull for wine drinking," Sarevok suggested.

"Or placed a geas upon him and used him as a pleasure slave," Viconia added. "Of course, that would only be _you_. With a body like mine, I don't need magic for mind control."

"Or placed a geas upon him and tortured him for your pleasure for as long as his worthless human life lasted," Irenicus finished.

Grace turned and looked at her team. "How come none of _you_ are that unabashedly evil?"

"Bishop _tried_," Elanee pointed out.

"Point."

"I'm kind of there," Qara voiced half-heartedly.

"You're just _whiney_, Qara, not _evil." _Sand rolled his eyes.

"Well, okay, let's start moving out. We'll take you guys back to… um… what's the name of that keep?"

"Crossroad Keep. My keep."

"Oh, okay, we'll take you there."

The two groups departed, Grace's group (including Grace herself) shoving the remainder of the food into their mouths.

"So, your only mage is a _moon elf?_" Viviane asked.

"Your _mother_ was a moon elf!" Sand retorted. Viviane gasped in indignation.

"Why, I never…"

"Moon elves are inferior," Irenicus snorted.

"You're a human."

"I _was_ an elf."

"Your _mom_ was an elf."

"Well, yes…"

* * *

Grace took back her keep, although Nevalle begrudgingly gave it back. After firmly establishing that she was still alive, she was rewarded with a smiley-face cookie from Lord Nasher.

Casavir stayed at Crossroad Keep, firmly planting himself in a kneeling position by Grace's throne. Always forgiving, Grace took him back.

Khelgar, Neeshka and Grobnar went to the Moonstone Mask and became regular hit in the performing industry. Part of the reason they were so successful was that Neeshka would steal from the patrons. Khelgar also doubled as bouncer. Grobnar invested in some new magic in hopes of protecting himself from his coworkers, because Khelgar was still dreaming of roasted gnome, but a bard cannot deny the stage.

Sand performed a foul and evil geas on Qara, binding her to him. This actually wasn't so bad for Qara – she got food, clothing, protection, and all she had to do was trade quips with Sand for the rest of her life. She could get used to that. They moved to Crossroad Keep, because everyone knew that Sand's shop would flourish if it weren't in such a bad spot. And flourish it did. Aldanon came to visit every day.

Ammon went back to his Haven to start cleaning it out. He has not communicated with the others since.

Zhjaeve went back to her home with the githzerai. She was not missed by the others. This was probably due to her being boring and annoying. Fortunately for her, she didn't exactly miss them either.

Elanee decided to stay at Crossroad Keep as well, and, blending her love of druidry with her love of civilization, she became the Keep's esteemed gardener, making the Keep just the _loveliest_ vacation spot in the summer.

Bishop was being hunted by forces from Luskan, Neverwinter, and numerous bounty-hunters.

Rodney was never heard from again.


End file.
